Prodigy
by autonomee
Summary: Art teacher Kylo Ren finds an apprentice in a freshman girl, Rey. His obsession with mentoring her spirals out of control.
1. Chapter 1

I am far too tired for this right now.

It's going to take about two more coffees to get me through this morning's assembly for the incoming freshmen. Being the art teacher, I don't actually have a homeroom class so I'll get a break while the students receive their schedules.

Still, I'm expected to attend the morning's assembly to help direct students and show my face, something the principal cares far too much about in my opinion. If need be I am expected to discipline as well but freshmen tend to be too nervous to try anything on the first day.

I take another gulp from my chipped mug, already accustomed to the bitter taste of the faculty lounge coffee. A few more sips and I'll have to join the other teachers who have already begun to head towards the gymnasium. They mostly have herded off in groups, making small talk with each other about their respective summers. None wait for me though; they all already know me to be a bit of a loner.

After I wash off my mug, I tug the sleeves of my suit down, adjusting it from having been seated. It's expected of all faculty to dress nicely during the first week of school while they meet the students and their parents.

Plenty of meet and greets go along with the beginning of the semester but thankfully teaching art means no parents are prioritizing meeting me.

Ironically, you'd be hard pressed to find me not wearing some form of a suit. People regard it as odd for the art teacher to dress nicely. They expect some hippie, but I'm far from that. I've been called cold and calculated since adolescence. It both seems to turn people off or drive them crazy with intrigue.

I brace myself and head towards the gym, ready to get this part over with and back into my art room, the one safe haven on this campus.

Before I can even reach the entrance to the gym, I hear the students chatting all too loudly from their seats in the bleachers. I enter and immediately take note of how much larger this freshman class is than the last. Public schools becoming more and more crowded, what's new?

I take my spot against the wall by the main entrance. Just because I have to show my face does not mean I plan on standing with my peers near the principal. Instead I opt to be the disciplinarian perched at the door, something I am a good candidate for because of my height and overall composure.

From there I survey the students, noticing the same predictable trends displayed by freshmen. For the most part I see over excited chatter about finally being in high school while wearing an outfit that was obviously meant to impress but instead makes them look uncomfortable and/or insecure.

Thankfully the principal calls the students to attention. The assembly goes by slowly but seamlessly. The principal gives a speech with a cheery smile, the kids chatter away any chance they get, and finally each teacher assigned a homeroom assembles their students and leads them out of the gymnasium.

Once the majority of the freshman homeroom teachers have led their classes out, I make my way to the art room to avoid any chit chat about my summer, which I do not care to share about.

All I did was keep to myself and work on my portfolio. I did take some classes but they were once again disappointing. I was disappointing.

I open the door to my classroom and am immediately comforted by the familiar scent of paints and canvas. After homeroom I will have my first class, Drawing I. My semester schedule looked about the same as the last one.

The schedule is structured to follow an alternating A and B day system. This means that each student has eight classes, four each day, and it alternates every other day. So I'll teach Drawing I today, Wednesday, Friday and then again next week Tuesday and Thursday, and so on and so forth.

I teach three classes per day and am mandated to supervise only one lunch period a day. That's a relief because last semester it was two and unlike the students, I hate lunch period. It is the kids at their most rambunctious and I'm forced to stand and watch.

My first class is extremely basic. Just some introductions and a fun assignment to match the students' excitement. Everyone, even the teachers, know that the first week is a joke or otherwise known as syllabus week. I provide a syllabus for the students and their parents to sign, one that explains all the mumbo jumbo standards I must abide by according to our shit state education system.

Luckily, another pro of being an art teacher is art is all about bending rules, something I employ in all of my curriculum. I used to more in the past but admittedly the years get bleaker and bleaker as the students get more self-absorbed and more focused on their internet presence than their talents.

I look forward to the more advanced classes consisting of students whom I've gotten to know better over their time at this high school. None of them are too spectacular but they tend to keep to themselves like me, only bothering me when necessary which I appreciate. Very few students seem to take to art at this school, which is why it is still missing an advanced placement program.

Believe me, if I could I would teach AP but it seems the interest isn't there. In the meantime I just keep trying to cultivate the few artistic minds I do come across.

The second day of school proves to me more boring than the first. At least I had more free time on day one. What's especially disappointing is that I have a fourth period class on B days, Art Basics. This means I can't escape earlier in the day if I really wanted to. Knowing that meant I skipped out early on day one. The consequence of that being I have to stay later today to take care of the beginning of the semester paperwork I've been putting off.

At the beginning of fourth period, I give out the syllabus accompanied by the usual start of the year speech. I set the students off to do whatever they want for the rest of the period, directing them towards the endless art supplies that have gathered in this room over the years.

I get on my computer and start sifting through the menial tasks I'll have to finish before leaving today. At some point I get up to make my rounds of the students. Some ask me question and I put on my comforting voice and reply as best as I can.

I see a lot of the same. After years of doing this, I'm accustomed to the typical first attempts at artwork: flowers, fruit in a bowl, a sphere on a table where the shadows are cast in impossible ways.

There are of course a few standouts. One sophomore boy drawing video game like graphics, a blue haired senior drawing female anime characters, a girl who I don't recognize drawing a portrait of her classmate.

It's well done but completely unoriginal. What's most unoriginal is the way her eyes dart back between me and the page in front of her, clearly looking to see if I'm impressed. I'm not.

There is one student however who piques my interest. A skinny girl with freckles and hazel eyes in the back corner, hunched over a notebook that has clearly been around for some time. There are only a few pages untouched and neatly stacked compared to the bound of ruffled pages preceding them.

The girl is focused, scribbling away with her jaw jutted out in a peculiar defiance. When I walk by her to peak over her shoulder she instinctively curls around it protectively.

I only catch a glimpse of smoke but I must say. It's magnificent, lined twice with blue and white, reminiscent of an older style. I immediately wonder what sorts of pencils she has to produce that effect, when she stops and turns to stare at me.

It is so strange but no student has made me feel as if I lacked a sense of privacy in my own art room. I stare back until she lowers her eyes quickly and turns back to her notebook, turning to a fresh page. She keeps her eyes trained on it, her head hanging low but I know what she is truly focused on is me.

In an effort to not antagonize her anymore I keep making my rounds and find myself back at my desk watching her. She keeps staring at the blank page until the bell sounds. I wish the class a good day and watch them shuffle out one by one, most of them happy to be done with their second day of school.

I immediately return to the class list and scan it to remember what her name was. That's it. Rey. When I had called her name during attendance, she had hardly lifted her hand to indicate that it was her name I was calling. Her aloofness then seemed typical of a teenager but for some reason now it hurt a little.

I open up the teacher's portal and click on the first form I have to fill out and submit and soon the girl Rey is off my mind. I work on my computer for about half an hour before attending a mandatory faculty meeting. The only consolation being the cup of coffee I get to guzzle down to re-energize and then it is back to my desk.

A few hours after the last school bell, I finally get to leave. It's a little later than I would like but admittedly that is because of my own feet dragging while working. I take relief in the fact that most of the students have left the premises by now and I can avoid as many people as possible on my short walk to the satellite lot where my shitty Toyota is parked.

It's late enough that I know the building's front entrance ought to lock behind me but I still check that it does as I do with most doors. The sun is still up since it's not even fall yet but it hangs low and casts orange across the courtyard. I lift my face to it, appreciating one of my favorite times of day as I make my way towards my car.

Then I see her. Rey.

The girl with the unusual stare and tattered journal. The mysterious girl shrouded in smoke.

She is huddled around her notebook scribbling away as she had in class, her backpack propped up behind her like a cushion and her knees pulled close to her chest. When the door clicks into place, her head pokes up reminding me of a deer in the forest.

It doesn't take her long to spot me. She stares cautiously for a moment before returning to her work. I can't explain why, but it takes everything in me not to approach her right there and then.

For the next several days I notice her perched there working in her book as I leave for the day, and wonder how long she typically stays there. I wonder plenty things about her. The more I can't get anything out of her in class the more I wonder. After a few weeks she still has not spoken to another classmate or myself for that matter. She's a complete enigma and I want to know more but don't know how.

Admittedly I did look up her class schedule but that is completely normal as a teacher that is concerned for her. It is not often I see a student alienate themselves as she does. It makes sense that I do it but that's because I am older. A girl like her should be about making friends of her classmates and smiling more often.

Instead, I see her perched each day at her seat after school while on my way home and I wonder what she could be drawing. Is it smoke again or is it something else?

After a few weeks I decide to stay late and see if she is still there. It'd been another B day and another unsuccessful attempt to get a better look at Rey's book and Rey herself.

I suspect based on her raggedy clothes and the fact that she stays so late to be picked up that she must be poor. Not unusual for my school, not at all but at least most of the students have been set up to at least take the bus home at a reasonable time.

My heart both soars and breaks when I discover her still sitting in her seat outside well past the building's closing time. I'm overjoyed that she is still here but I can see then that she is alone in this world. And I can't unsee it.

I watch for a while before a beaten down van rounds the corner of the student parking lot and makes its way to the roundabout for pickup. Rey hurries quickly to the van, slides the door open with some effort, and throws her bag and herself in.

It sputters a few clouds of smoke as it makes its way out. I curse myself for taking so long to approach her but feel relief that I will likely get the chance to talk to her again after school tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

I spend my free period the next day thinking of how to approach Rey.

Should I let her do the talking?

I doubt that will work since she usually stares me down in class if I make the slightest attempt to approach her. She's unlike the other students so no strategy I employ on them will be of use.

Perhaps I ought to treat her like any adult. Afterall, she thinks on a level past her peers.

She must. You can't produce work so profound, so heartbreaking without living through several decades. Or so I thought until she came around. Rey.

Still, I expect she doesn't talk to the other students because she has nothing in common with them and feels they are too immature as I did when I was younger. Still do. Maybe she will enjoy being treated differently. I count on that for when I go outside to meet her.

True to form she is waiting for me in her spot and there is not a soul in sight.

I take light but long steps towards Rey. Despite that, she's quick to pick up on my presence and snaps her book shut. Then she gives me that mistrusting stare.

Clever girl.

I stop a comfortable distance away. I don't want to loom over her.

"Good evening, Rey."

"Mr. Ren." She sounds like any other student for once.

But I can see through it.

It's all in her eyes. The contempt, the lack of trust. Her gaunt face tight and cautious, ready for anything.

I wonder how often she eats. How ever much, it's not enough. Not for me.

I pull out two protein bars from my bag and offer her one. She reaches out for the bar and then pauses momentarily before relenting and unwrapping it in record time.

I unwrap mine carefully with my long fingers and she watches me cautiously while taking large bite after bite.

"You know, Rey, I've been really impressed with your work. I feel like you could do more though."

This is a longshot but I run with it. From what I've gathered so far of the girl, she's proud. She will not be happy to hear this. It won't hurt her but it will keep her talking to me, or so I hope.

"I agree. If only you could assign something challenging," she retorts. I smirk both amused and a little hurt. She's not wrong though. I've grown stale even in my teaching.

"You've got me there, Rey."

Her eyes widen, new to anyone agreeing with her. I feel bad for the girl but she need not worry anymore. I've got it covered from here.

"How about this, I promise to give you more control over your assignments if you show me what you are drawing." I offer a hint of a smile. It's unlike me but it seems to work.

"This isn't finished but I'll show you something else." She's skeptical but somehow firm and I can't help but grin at her, even going so far as showing a little teeth.

"Deal."

Rey once again hunches over her work and begins to turn back several pages until she stops on one. She then hugs her book before meeting my eyes with a serious expression.

She hesitates. "Just know I did this in only a day."

It's the first sign of weakness I've seen in her and I write it down alongside all the other things I've come to learn about Rey most eagerly.

This is the humanity that makes an artist, or so they say and I'm proud to bear witness to it. I nod and reach out for her end of the bargain. As clever as she seems to be, it didn't take much for her to agree to our deal without any assurance that I would follow through.

Not that I would ever break a promise to her.

I am not enough prepared to see the sketch.

It goes beyond what I thought my little Rey was capable of but now I know there is no limit I should place on her.

This took her a day?

The composition is exquisite, creating invisible lines that hook you in. The texture I still need to ask her about because she must be using some old pencils to create this kind of grainy effect in her work. It runs across the old pages of her book so well, small squares decorating even the thinnest of lines.

But it's the perspective and subject matter that exceeds all, a woman floating in the smoke, her feet closest and her breasts farthest away, her back arched backwards unnaturally displaying the shadow of an agonized face towards the viewer.

Rey has locked this woman into an eternity of suffering and it's beyond stunning.

And that's when I know. Everything they ever said about my artwork was true. Because here I see what true art is about. I don't even care if I will never be on her level; Rey has shown me true artistic ability. Raw talent. The best of humanity.

I feel a pang run from my heart to my extremities, leaving a coolness behind. I feel alive again, I have something to care for. This girl. Her talent.

And my world shifts. I knew this was happening before, in my body, in my heart but damn if my mind didn't just catch up then. She confirms everything I'd been feeling in that moment she shows me this agonized woman.

I can't help but know the woman is her or some version of her. The deeper mystery of Rey, one I didn't expect to find along with my prodigy, is the stark damage I see in her behavior. She never talks and the first thing that speaks volumes about her is the pain. The pain I feel too.

I must be there for her. That's all there is anymore.

I return her book to her after what must be too long with a slight nod and grin. It's back in her backpack in seconds.

I have to keep it simple. I can't show my cards yet or make her feel like I'm anything but someone to look up to. For now at least. Because if she thinks I care about her, she's going to shy away from the unfamiliarity.

And God, to have this girl revere me...

"Very nice, Rey." Her expression remains unchanged and I almost high five myself internally because I guessed that would be her reaction. Perfect. "Perhaps I can help you. How would you like to have free period? Let's call it free art period. You have free reign to do as you'd like, as long as it's expanding your body of work."

She eyes me skeptically and that's right. Once I break into the wall she has built tall, I need her to keep the rest out. Her art can only grow if she lives uninhibited. That's the first pang of guilt I feel but I shove it down.

"I'd like that." She offers a hint of a smile, and even though it doesn't touch her eyes, I feel more victorious than I have in years.

This is my first breakthrough in the art world in years. Sad but true.

That's when the van from the first night I saw her out here pulls up. Rey's face hardens, a mechanical determination taking over.

"Goodnight Mr. Ren," she says stiffly before hoisting her backpack on her shoulder, thrusting the wrapper of her bar in my hand, and rushing towards the van.

I try and catch a glimpse of the driver but the windows are so tinted I even lose sight of Rey when she disappears into the back seat. I'm struck she is gone, unsure how to process what I've just seen.


	3. Chapter 3

I eagerly await Basic Drawing period the following day. During my free period I run to the nearby shopping center to pick up a few things for fourth period. When Rey's class starts, I quiet them down and assign their first project.

It's a little early in the semester to be assigning a free reign project but I want Rey to be able to dive into her work freely without anyone asking questions or accusing me of favoritism.

She deserves the freedom to do as she pleases so for her sake I will grant it to the rest of them.

The assignment is to create a piece of artwork, whether it be a drawing, painting, photograph, or something 3-D, inspired by a majorly influential artist. They have to gather references to draw from before they can start their work. They moan and groan when I tell them we won't be touching the art supplies today.

I understand wanting to dive right in to sketching, but I learned early on the importance of research and I intend to teach the class that early. And Rey, if she doesn't know already.

I give a presentation about some major artists, throwing in a few more unknown artists that high schoolers tend to be fond of, and then direct the students to the shelves of reference books in the corner of the room.

"And you can use your mobile devices to look up references on the internet. My computer is connected to the printer and you can take turns printing them out. You'll need about five to seven references."

The students shuffle off to get what they need from the reference shelves. Everyone except Rey who remains in her seat giving me a look of contempt. She thinks I don't mean to meet my end of the bargain.

I smirk and keep my eyes locked with hers while I grab the large stack of books on my desk. She raises an eyebrow at me when I set them in front of her. They're full of scraps of paper marking certain pages I thought were best for her.

Some of the other students eye us. Actually not really us. Just Rey.

Of course the way I treat her would draw some attention, but I don't care. She needs this.

I doubt the girl has received a proper art education but dammit if she doesn't deserve one. It'll be my pleasure to give it to her.

She peeks behind her shoulder. "No need to single me out," she mutters, her eyes trained on the table in front of her.

I slide the stack of books towards her. "They're for you to study. I chose them just for you."

She crosses her arms and leans back in her seat. "I thought I got to do something else?"

"Ah, so you do want me to treat you differently." I grin down at her, probably gazing at her too intensely because she blushes a light pink. It's lovely.

"We had a deal."

"I know, and this is me keeping it. You can look at these if you'd like. You can do as you please. But I think you'll like what you see here."

She eyes me doubtfully but opens the first book. I watch her flip through the first few pages, satisfied by how curious she is. A brilliant mind should always want to know more.

Eventually I leave her to it though I wish I could stay watching over her.

Throughout the period I talk to the other students, answering their questions and giving suggestions of how they can better their projects. The majority of them have gotten excited about the project and are chatting happily away with each other about ideas for what they're going to do.

I steal glances at Rey when I get the chance and I am sure no one is going to see me. She rests her head in her hand and flips the pages slowly, sometimes stopping to look at something more closely. I wish I could take a photo of the small smile she wears, of the way her eyes glow when she's in her own little world.

I announce to the class that they should clean up ten minutes before the period ends. I want them out as soon as class is over so I can be alone with Rey.

She's still looking through one of the books when the last student walks out the door. I wave them off from the doorway then close the door behind me until it's just a crack open.

I wait for her to make the first move.

"These are something else. I don't have a computer or anything at home so I can't usually look at this type of stuff."

"I'm glad you liked them. It's extremely important to keep references when working. Saves you a lot of time and it's a teacher within itself." She simply nods and peers back down at the page in front of her. "You can take those home if you'd like."

"I wish, but I can't." I raise a questioning eyebrow but before I can even ask, she says, "It's just... not a good idea." She smiles sadly and turns the page. That reminds me of when she shoved the protein bar wrapper in my hand before she got in the van the other night.

"I see. Well, I have some cabinets back here for storage. How about you take this one and keep your books in there. And anything else you might want to keep in there."

"Okay," she mumbles. I must have made her feel uncomfortable earlier because she is keeping her eyes on the book. Still, she stayed after class instead of hurrying out and I take that as a sign that she wants to be here with me.

"Speaking of which, I got something for you." I grab one of the bags from today's purchases and hand it to her. "I noticed yours was about to run out of pages."

It's a new leather bound notebook for sketching. Rey's small hands turn the book over with care. The edges of each page are painted golden and it's somewhat larger than her current sketchbook. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Her voice comes out soft and quiet.

"Because you're special," I state simply.

Her eyes snap from the book to meet mine and she lets out a shallow breath, her pupils dilated. "Thank you, Mr. Ren." She looks smaller then for some reason and I'm reminded of just how young she is. How vulnerable.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and look away. "There are some new graphite pencils in the bag too. I'll just go get the key to the cabinet for you."

When I come back, she's sketching something in her new notebook with the reference books sprawled out in front of her. It reminds me of me when I work. I set the key down in front of her and get out of the way.

At some point I heat up the macaroni and cheese I purchased earlier at the store and offer it to Rey who happily accepts. I've never seen someone devour microwaveable food as fast as Rey does then. Anger swells in me. Whoever the fuck takes care of her is is failing her and so is the public school system. She's underfed, that's obvious.

I look at her and smile, knowing she has me to take care of her now is a relief.

I play some jazz for us to listen to and Rey works quietly. It's relaxing. I even sketch some from my desk.

I draw a girl of much importance. She wears a hoodie and her eyes are depthless. You'd have to sneak glances to see such magnificence, and I do.

I wish she would speak to me more but I know it's better for her to open up to me if this is going to work as I'd like. I need her to come to me. To lure her in.

After an hour, I realize that isn't going to happen. I can't say I'm surprised that she wasn't won over by a cabinet, art supplies, and a cup of cheesy pasta. I'd be surprised if she was. My Rey is too smart for that.

"Rey," I call loud enough to be heard over the music. She looks at me, her eyes are full of depth and trying to tell me something that I can't understand. It's distracting but I lick my lips and proceed. "Would you like to use the art room after school more often?"

She nods slowly.

"Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

Rey comes to the art room after school everyday now. In just a few weeks it starts to feel like our art room, one she fills with her laughter and creativity. She starts to wear her hair up and dress a little brighter, rarely dawning her hoodie anymore.

Instead of feeding Rey macaroni and cheese everyday, I start to cook enough dinner each night so I can bring enough leftovers to feed both of us. I make sure the meals are as healthy as possible for Rey's sake. She looks like she isn't getting enough nutrients and I can't have any of that.

This evening I grill some chicken for a salad and think of Rey and her work. When she gets frustrated with some part of her painting that isn't turning out the way she wants, she asks me what to do and it's thrilling. Helping Rey is the thing I didn't know I had been waiting for.

She's been working on a masterpiece. Sometimes it aches, it literally aches, just watching her make progress.

She's not as good at painting as me so she asks for my help a lot. She'll tell me how she wants the paint to look, the texture, the color, and I do my best to show her how to make it so.

I hate to admit it but I like that she depends on me from time to time. I want to show her how to not need others but at the same time ache for her to need me like I need her.

I decide not to eat tonight and just pack up the entire dinner into two tupperwares, careful to put a larger portion of meat and veggies in Rey's meal. The girl loves to eat.

I don't feel tired tonight, the buzz from spending time with Rey today is keeping me awake, but I'm desperate to sleep and get this day over with.

I want tomorrow. I want her again. To tire myself I go for a quick jog and take a relaxing shower before getting into bed. When I lie there I know my exercise did little to exhaust me.

Before I really think about what I'm doing, my right hand is in my sweats, wrapping around my cock. I start stroking but it's not quite right so I take a moment to lick my palm before continuing, adding twists at the head every few strokes. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, focusing on letting my body relax and release.

It's been a long time since I've jerked off but I fall back into the rhythm of things easily. My mind wanders, searching for the right fantasy to get me off.

This is the part where I usually get discouraged, unable to picture something arousing that doesn't at the same time turn me off. This time however I find it right away and I'm sucked away quickly.

"Mr. Ren." Defiance thick in her voice and in her eyes. We are in the art room. She stares me down while her hand travels down her chest leading all the way in between her legs. She slips her fingers between the folds of her skirt and I watch her face twist with pleasure. She calls my name again, each time thicker with desire, more desperate and closer to the edge. I call her name back, unable to help myself.

"Rey, Rey...ungh… Rey!" I come hard, thrusting into my fist to ride it out, her name on my lips still. It takes until the cum cools on my hand and stomach before I regain my senses.

At first, I don't know how to feel.

This is me standing here and way the fuck over there is the line I just crossed. She's fourteen and the thought of fucking her tiny cunt both drives me wild and makes me sick. I've never in my life felt this way about a student before, anyone for that matter.

But it's like I told Rey, she's special.

I only manage to sleep a few hours before my alarm goes off. It's an A day so I go through the motions eagerly awaiting the final school bell.

It can't come fast enough but when it finally does, I sit at my desk and fumble around aimlessly on the teacher's portal website. Rey comes in a few minutes later and plops her bag on her usual table with a huff.

She's wearing a generic female gym outfit which in our high school is a tight grey T-shirt and tiny navy-blue gym shorts. To say she looks pissed would be an understatement.

"Tough day?"

"Don't even ask." I can't help the quirk of my lips that give away my amusement. Her glare hardens and she stomps to her cabinet. She's filled it with all her supplies (all provided by me) and placed a strip of masking tape on the door which reads: REY'S. STAY OUT.

"This girl Pava who for some reason hates my guts even though I've never said a word to her decided to unload an entire can of shaving cream in my locker in gym today. I am gonna paint her clothes."

Rey swings the door open and bends down to gather her supply box. Her shorts ride up and I can't help but admire the curve of her ass, the wide gathering of her hips. I'm not listening to her when she turns and catches me staring. She goes silent.

Oh, fuck.

I can't tell for sure if she noticed but how could she not. I was eyefucking my student and I'll be damned if the shame I feel isn't written plainly across my face right now. But she breaks out into a grin and says, "You won't rat me out will you? I'm thinking green, orange, and yellow." She holds up some oil paints and her grin turns almost evil, her eyes sheening sinisterly. "And polkadots."

Relief rushes through me, warm and sweet.

It doesn't last.

"Excuse me." The deep, cool voice of Poe Dameron, the principal's favorite teacher, rings loud and stern through my art room and I go cold once again. What has he seen? "Mr. Ren, could I see you for a moment?"

I clear my throat and turn to him. His expression gives nothing away and I seriously think my heart's about to implode. "Of course. I'll be right back, Rey." She smiles sweetly at me and nods before going back to setting up her work space.

I follow Poe out the door and down the hallway far enough so that Rey cannot overhear us.

He rounds on me. "What did you do?" I stare at him dumbfounded, no idea what to say. Deny deny deny if it comes to it.

"What do you mean?" I ask working hard to keep my voice level, and failing. What if he knows? What if he saw? The shame of last night swells in me.

"How did you reach Rey? I cannot get that girl to connect with anyone or anything. She's in my homeroom and I'm her history teacher. She almost never speaks and here she is with you just chatting away." He shakes his head in disbelief and his smile is almost blinding.

Oh, sweet, sweet relief again. I regain my composure.

It's quickly replaced with annoyance.

Here is pretty boy Dameron in disbelief that a student could actually like me. "Well she is a really gifted art student. It seems to be the only thing that reaches her. She's taken to my art room."

"What a relief!" My lip quirks up cause that's my line. Poe seems to think I'm just being friendly and fuck if that's not the last thing I want, but maybe gaining his trust is a good idea.

Poe steps closer and his voice gets quieter. "The truth is that I've been rather worried about that girl. She seems off, never speaking to anyone even in homeroom. I can never get a hold of her guardian and I know all the so called signatures on her syllabi are faked by Rey herself. And I swear sometimes I think she's covering something up with that sweater. But I've seen a change in her recently. It must have been you, Kylo." He pats me on my back.

"Well, her father is picking her up late today so she's staying to use the art supplies I have. I'm working late and don't mind supervising." I smile cooly at him. This is perfect. It'll be good to have a witness, especially one so supportive.

"Good man. Listen, I gotta get outta here. I got the husband waiting at home." He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "If you ever need anything from me, just holler," he calls over his shoulder and makes towards the exit.

I simply wave in reply. Dameron could actually come in handy. Usually he just makes me feel bad cause his perfect teacher act and his posse of popular teachers makes me look like a freak.

Only a few students have taken to me and that's damn right Dameron, Rey's one of them.

As much as I'm happy that someone has noticed, this probably won't be the only time someone catches us after school like this. If the other teachers begin to talk, I have Poe to step in for me.

Still, it's better to draw less attention. I'll have to do something about that.

Back in the art room, I find Rey standing in front of her project, her hands atop her head and weight shifted onto her right hip. She groans.

"Mr. Ren, I don't know. It's not done but I don't know what else to do right now. I just finished the people on the staircase and I do not want to touch them for a while. Background is last so… It's just." She sighs deeply.

I chuckle softly. "I know what that's like. Knowing when to stop- it's one of the toughest challenges we come across as artists." She hums in agreement.

I want to offer more but this is where she excels. When it comes to technique I can give tips but her creations are her own and if I suggest what to do next there then I'll ruin her.

"Can we do something different today?"

"Whatever you'd like as long as it's art related." Yes, that's what keeps me in the clear. Just an art teacher I repeat to myself.

"Can we sketch each other? I never get the chance to use an actual subject. Plus I'll get to see you at work finally."

"Ah, I see. You want to see a pro at work." I roll my shoulders. "Alright but I warn you now. After you see this, you're gonna wanna be me."

"Psh as if. I can see the way you drool over my notebook. You want a peek, I can tell." She's setting up two stands across from each other to draw on but pauses for a moment to wink at me.

I smirk, eyes narrowing. "How about this? We sketch each other for sixty minutes and whoever does the best portrait gets to see one piece of work from the loser."

"You're on Mr. Ren. Draw your weapon." She guffaws at her own joke and for the first time I notice that Rey is a bit of a dork. I chuckle and choose a generic graphite pencil before sitting opposite to Rey.

For the first time I get the chance to just sit and admire her. It's Rey at her best, concentrating on her subject with a fierce stare, sketching furiously.

I start with her eyes. They are more brown than green today, full of depth. They're difficult to capture but eyes are my specialty.

Her eyebrows are impossible to capture though because they are constantly moving. "Control your eyebrows," I mutter.

She laughs. "I can't control them. I've been told they have a mind of their own."

"Yeah, who said that?

"My last foster parent. She was nice."

After that her eyebrows manage to stay still.

I spend too much time framing her face but she has such a unique jawline that I want to make sure I capture it perfectly. It's one of my favorite features and one of her most defining, ever defiant.

I lose myself staring into Rey's eyes more than once, returning to them over and over, going into the most detail there. The experience is cathartic and relaxes me all over. Sketching with her is my peace.

The hour is nearly over and Rey's face has come together rather well on my page. I touch up her hairline and then her eyes a bit more before I set my pencil down and clap my hands together.

"Time's up."

She closes one eye and tilts her head some, quickly makes one last mark and then sets her pencil down loudly.

She smiles at me knowingly and it's remarkable, lighting up her eyes. "Okay you go first!"

I gulp, suddenly very nervous.

Looking at my portrait of Rey, I see something I haven't seen in any of my work to date.

Something warm. Something I didn't know existed inside me.

I can't identify it but there's more feeling in this sixty minute portrait than in most of my larger pieces.

"Mr. Ren!" Rey interrupts my train of thought and I don't have anymore time to be nervous because she hops up and snatches up the portrait.

"Oh…" She's concentrating hard, her eyes scanning quickly and I notice her cheeks have grown a few shades redder.

"What is it?"

Her doe eyes meet mine and they are almost...sweet? A small smile plays across her face, and once again her eyebrows are back at it. "It's just that, I didn't think we were taking this so seriously."

"What do you mean?"

"Well. I drew you as a raven."

I get up and in two quick strides, I'm staring at my face in bird form.

In place of my long nose is a black hooked beak, my dark eyes perched above. Instead of my large ears and wild hair, Rey has replaced them with feathers and wings.

The disturbing part is her choice to include my lips, as they are, drawn precisely like a photograph.

It does something to me to imagine her staring at my lips long enough to perfect them as she has here.

I cover the shit eating grin forming on my face with my hand and shake my head in disbelief.

"You win, Rey."


	5. Chapter 5

It's been a few weeks since Rey completed her work and I still take peeks at her masterpiece, savoring every stroke of her paintbrush. I knew she would love surrealism but I didn't expect surrealism to love her so, as if the style was made for her.

I spent hours framing the perfect photo to create a digital copy good enough for my purposes. Now that everything has fallen into place, I am sure Rey is going to love her early birthday present.

Based on what I've learned of her home life so far (a lot less than I'd like), my gift for her will be the best she has ever received.

She deserves nothing but the best. I will be that for her.

Rey should be here any minute now so I tuck her painting away in its safe place and wait.

 **And wait.**

 **And wait.**

 **Until hours have passed.**

 **And I am alone.**

 **And it feels like I stopped breathing a while ago.**

 **Where is she?**

I check each day that she is present for her first period class. She's never missed a day despite it being late in the semester, and I attribute that to whoever is in that van each day being a piece of shit.

The teachers' portal says she was in school today.

Did she get bored of me? Of art?

Did she realize how I felt about her? How I need her or there's nothing left of me. How she heals me with each day, with each minute.

Now the minutes stretch endlessly and I feel the slow decay.

Eventually I pack up both tupperwares, untouched, switch off the light and go home. It's the loneliest night I've spent since I met Rey.

I wonder what kept her from me today, what caused her to break our unspoken promise of spending time with each other each day. The weekends are maddening enough. Not knowing why is even worse.

The next day is a B day so I will get my answers provided she is at school.

The first thing I do when I get to the art room in the morning is check the portal, refreshing until sure enough she is marked present for first period.

It does nothing to ease my mind and all day I feel like a madman until finally fourth period arrives.

Students file in, each one a disappointment, until Rey walks in with the same confidence as usual, something I notice growing every day, and it should. She's magnificent.

She takes her usual seat and is immediately sketching. She doesn't even look at me but that's normal.

I can't say for sure, but it seems she wants to keep our relationship hidden as well, something that both irks and pleases me very much.

It's for the best though.

Still, I'm not letting her off without an explanation.

The explanation walks into my art room at the end of class in the form of bright red hair and gangly limbs. I've seen the boy around. Hux they call him. A fucking punk if I've ever seen one.

He makes a beeline for my Rey and I wish I could grab the boy and strike him over the head.

Another first.

"Excuse me," I intervene with my deepest voice. It comes out rougher than it should have.

The boy eyes me quickly, disdain clear. Prick. "Rey, we should get out of here," he mutters.

The sketchbook I gifted her is already in her bag and she's on her feet. "Mr. Ren, Hux and I have a history project. I'll be back tomorrow though." She says it lightly as if it wasn't a stab in my lungs.

Of fucking course. Dameron's history project is getting in my way. He's the reason I spent last night agonized.

The boy clears his throat and I have to do something or Rey is going to be alone with this sleazy boy and I just can't have that. Can't even picture it.

"Rey, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Yes, buy time.

She looks momentarily taken aback, but shrugs. "Yeah, sure. I'll be right there, Hux," she says dismissively and my lips quirk up for a moment at that. I need that about right now.

The boy, Hux, looks between both of us, almost suspiciously. I try and keep myself from visibly tensing up but I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing.

I'm doing something out of the ordinary for a teacher and of course he's noticed. I stare him down as if I've done nothing wrong.

He sighs and his shoulders slump some while he exits, leaving me alone with Rey.

She eyes me curiously, concern playing across her lovely face.

"I have a surprise for you."

"And what's that?" I adore Rey for her composure, setting her apart from other teenagers. Sadly, it must be her home life that makes her so.

"There's a very prestigious gallery opening in the city this Friday evening. Only the best artists in the region are welcome, and I've been invited." I hate to lie but it's necessary. It's that boy Hux's fault. "I want to bring you as my plus one."

Her eyes widen, and thank the heavens that she's intrigued. Of course she is. She would never disappoint me.

I continue. "The thing is, the invitation said black tie. Do you have any formal attire?"

She shakes her head slowly.

"Well then we must get some."

"Okay," she breathes. I wonder why she is so taken aback but I'm pleased she is accepting my invitation.

Oh.

It's as if I've asked her on a date I realize. I can feel my ears heating up but I press on.

"Will Plutt be an issue?" The name tastes bad as it leaves my mouth.

She shakes her head again.

"I'll write you a note just in case. Listen, I would prefer to go shop for your dress now. Tomorrow I have some errands to run."

And that's the truth at least.

"Yeah, okay. Let me make up some excuse for Hux. Be right back."

I smile wryly. On one side, I'm thrilled she said yes to me and no to him. On the other, I know I'm not being careful enough.

It's hard to care. She's here with me, not him. I feel victorious instead of defeated.

When Rey comes back she informs me that they plan on finishing the project before class tomorrow at lunch, which is fine by me.

I lead Rey out of the building and to my car. I hope she doesn't notice how much I'm scanning for witnesses. Almost as much as I hope that no one sees us.

I remind myself that as much as I despise the man, Dameron is still my safeguard. I'm thankful for it.

I drive us to the nearby mall. I figure Macy's ought to have what we need for Friday night.

Rey spent a lot of the car ride looking out the window excitedly. Makes me wonder how much time she spends outside of school, home and that van.

I park by the food court intentionally, keen on making sure Rey eats. When I switch off the ignition, it really dawns on me that we are off campus together for the first time ever. I tower over her as we make our way to the entrance. I have noticed she's grown a little since the start of the semester. Not just height-wise either.

The cool air is replaced by an almost suffocating heat. There are so many people bustling around the food court alone. If there's one thing I hate, it's crowds.

It seems Rey is no different, as she weaves through people, careful not to touch them. I notice one person bump into her and she flinches. Eventually she grabs the back of my jacket and follows closely behind. It's the most childlike thing I've seen Rey do.

"Rey, would you like something to eat?"

"Yes, please."

"You choose." I wave my hand out to all the options.

"Chinese?"

I nod and lead her to the line. Once we have our trays, I choose a booth for more privacy. Not that there isn't a constant buzz of chatter in this overcrowded mall.

"Thank you," She mutters before digging in.

She's a lot healthier looking than when I first saw her, but she still eats like a pig. I love it.

I on the other hand have always been meticulous about eating. It's no secret that I enjoy running and working out, so I'm careful about my eating habits.

Once she's slowed down a bit, I decide it's time to get answers.

"Rey, tell me about Plutt."

She shrugs. "He's my legal guardian. Always busy. Not much to it."

How wrong she is. There's everything to it.

"What does he do for a living?"

She shrugs again and pushes her food around on the plate. "Rey?"

Her eyes meet mine. "Something shady." We stare at one another for a few moments too long before she pushes her tray away. "Shall we move on? I want to be at school by the time Plutt gets there."

"Of course."

In the Macy's the store attendant keeps eyeing between me and Rey trying to find some relation.

None of our features match, and it's not like I can tell her that I'm Rey's teacher buying her a dress and heels.

I didn't want to involve her in the first place but Rey and I are both clueless when it comes to shopping.

I wait patiently as Rey and her move around the store and enter the changing room together for far too long. How long does it take to try on dresses?

Rey comes out eventually looking frustrated with a black dress in hand. "This one," she says through clenched teeth.

I chuckle and lead her to the register, sure we are going to make it back to school in time for Plutt to arrive.

We do.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sitting in my shitty car wishing I had brought my grandfather Vader's old flask. A peculiar name, I know, but one I've become accustomed to as a man who I never knew, who my mom never knew, who's name is engraved on my favorite way to escape. Well, besides art.

He was some war veteran, went nuts during the war, killed many, and then retired to solitude and a slow death. It wasn't until right before he died that my mother discovered him. The whiskey and war had done their number by that time and he was gone within two months. I didn't want to meet him. Another let down for my mother.

Some whiskey would maybe help me forgot how nervous I am, how many times I've checked my rearview mirror to see if she is there. Rey.

But never in my world would I operate any machinery in a manner threatening that girl's life, so I tuck the thought away, and the urge with it.

Admittedly, I love her. It's been mere months and I've come to love her more than I love myself. It didn't take much to be sure.

I hate myself for it and it's still the best thing that's ever happened to me. She is the best thing.

I consider going to check on her for the umpteenth time when she swings around the block into the street we agreed to meet on. Picking her up in the teachers' parking lot is not the best idea, and she agreed easily to meet me elsewhere.

She's dressed in her black dress and some high heels. No. Not a dress. A jumper or whatever she would call it.

The garment gives the appearance of a flowy dress but it instead has pant legs. It cinches at the waist and reminds me of a genie or sultan, but instead of rich colors, Rey is doused in black. It's both so Rey and so unlike Rey that I nearly believe it's someone else.

More to my dismay and delicious satisfaction, her gown dips down almost to her belly button, exposing the wide valley between her budding breasts.

I'm mesmerized as she struts down the sidewalk toward my vehicle, wishing the moment could never end, wishing I had all the time to grab the sketchbook I always keep on my person to capture her elegance.

Even though she seems to be hating her heels, she walks with such strength and confidence, such purpose, as if the earth were made for her. It's breathtaking.

She's wearing a little makeup, just enough to accentuate her features. Her eyebrows are in full force tonight.

I gulp and decide it's best to get out of the car before I implode in my seat.

I exit the car and round the front to open her door for her. She carries nothing on her person but an old Nokia in her hand which she immediately hands me.

"Please, hold this for me. Plutt's not gonna call but he likes to be able to reach me at all times."

"Of course." I take the phone, and immediately enter my own number, saving it under Kylo. She raises an eyebrow at me. "Just in case," I say with a smile and she simply shrugs and brushes past me to sit in the car.

I keep my eyes from wandering, successfully, and instead scan for unwanted witnesses. She gets in and I get back to my seat promptly, taking us to destination one: a restaurant called The Iron Gate.

It's been a long time since I've been here, since my mother last brought me. Rey orders escargot out of plain curiosity and I stick with a grilled tenderloin steak with potatoes au gratin and asparagus.

It's quiet but the looks between us speak a thousand words. I watch her amused as she plays around with the snails. I expect her to like them as I had, able to get past the fact that they are indeed fancy snails.

To my delight, she is gobbling within seconds of trying her first one, the only thing slowing her is the slippery nature of her meal. One pops out of her hand and flies towards a nearby wait staff member, barely missing her. Rey covers her mouth and throws her head back, roaring in laughter.

I love her.

And. I'm not sure. I'm not sure if it's like an apprentice, a girl I love to care for. Or.

More.

I know the truth but the truth goes back and forth. It's harder to admit to yourself when things are like that. I shake the vague idea that I will never know love like this, instead focusing on Rey. The way she talks, the small things that giver her thoughts away. The things only I pick up on.

I can tell she's nervous about the gallery opening. She pretends not to be but everything she does, everything she says points otherwise. I've seen the way she moves through the halls of school and remember the way she shied away from crowds at the mall. She shouldn't be concerned.

I allow myself two Glen McKenna Scotches throughout the dinner, needing them, and when it comes time to pay, I swig the last of it, knowing it did very little to help. With my tolerance and size, it was bound to do nothing but slightly blur the edge that had taken over my being. Allows me to blur some other lines as well, as horrible as it sounds.

This is the most horrifyingly nervous night of my life. Rey serves me a platter of firsts.

Outside, the valet hands me my keys we make our exit. I know it's colder than before so I drape my jacket over Rey's bare shoulders. She's so small, and all I can hope is she feels safe in my larger jacket.

I love her.

It's not late at all but the drive will take a little bit. I tell her to play her music on my Spotify. Some of it is very odd, concentrated instruments making mobius after algorithm, but I follow it as I follow her gaze out the window as I can.

I love her.

I can't stop thinking it. I'm afraid I might say it, I'm thinking it so often, spontaneously.

I can't emphasize more how painfully nervous I am. But this is her night, not mine.

We pull up to the next valet at the gallery. The young chap grabs my keys disappointedly, clearly wishing he could continue to drive the Audi's and Ferrari's common this evening. I could technically afford to own one but I've always shied away from extravagance. I leave that all to my mother.

Inside, Rey is all eyes, gazing deeply into every piece of art. It's difficult for me to concentrate on any of the paintings when she is there. Her eyes rove about until she reaches something truly spectacular, and I'm the luckiest man alive to bear witness to the scene.

On the wall located furthest into the gallery is Rey's work on display, surrounded by the largest crowd yet. It's the piece she has worked on everyday for most of the semester, the product of a deal struck between us.

It's the most mesmerizing piece here if you don't count the look on her face when she sees it.

Her hands fly up to cover her mouth in a flash, but not before I hear the air escape her parted lips. I've never seen her face allow so much emotion, but the shock of seeing her painting on display betrays her, and tears well in her eyes

"Kylo…" Rey's eyes flick over to meet mine, and then she takes in the people around us, who are noticing our touching scene. How I wish they weren't here.

However ,I can't blame them. It's difficult not to notice something as bright as Rey. "I can't believe this is real. I've never. My work doesn't belong here," she hisses. She ducks her head, knowing she said that louder than intended.

"Oh, how mistaken you are, Rey. They loved it so much, they placed it as the back centerpiece. Look how many have come to see it." I let my eyes rove over the crowd for show.

She knows I'm right because she tears up even more. It's the sight I live for.

An older fellow cuts in our conversation. I've seen him before at events like these. Biggs, they call him. An impressionist. "Overwhelmed, young lady? It truly is something else," he muses. He gives her no time to answer, as is the trend with a crowd like this one. I can't help the clenching of my teeth.

"Well, yes, I'm very overwhelmed. This is the first time someone besides Kylo has seen my artwork."

She's right. A shame, really. One I have successfully done something about. For once.

The gentleman breaks into a huge smile. "It is a pleasure Miss Niima, an absolute pleasure." He offers a hand to her, which she takes tentatively.

And that right there is how she should always be treated. With reverence.

Rey regains herself quickly enough and dives into conversation, and like that I watch the cocoon crack and out emerges a butterfly.

The one conversation snowballs into several, and soon Rey is simply answering questions as if it was interview for the press. It disgusts me how much they want to know about her personal life, but Rey is poised and well spoken. She handles the interrogation well.

They quickly discover she hasn't gone to college and is in fact a freshman in high school. After one man rudely asks if Rey is serious, I step in.

"Ms. Niima is speaking truthfully. She's my student at Bail High." I'm a familiar enough face around these parts, and my word seems to end any discussion on that topic. I still am dragged into the rest of the questionnaire. How I've influenced Rey. How I discovered her. So on and so forth.

After so long, I am finally in the spotlight for some art achievement, my mentorship, and I want nothing to do with it.

I'm happy to just stand here handing out the business cards I made for Rey. It Includes the website I spent all week perfecting and a new email for inquiries, as well as the painting itself.

This is her doing, her talent. I'm just the lucky fool who found her first. That thought leaves me on edge considering the crowd of fiendish fanatics surrounding her at the moment.

The room is putty in her hands. She works the room like a First Lady. It starts to make me anxious, but every time I feel like she isn't mine anymore, she looks to me and smiles, like she can read my thoughts and feelings. After a while she starts to make a game of winking at me or keeping her eyes following me without the person she's talking to noticing. Eventually I, unable to play along any longer, join her side again. I'd waited long enough, and she was too tempting not to be around.

"Excuse me," she cuts in. "I would like a chance to grab a refreshment and admire the works of others. Thank you for all your kind comments. Enjoy the gallery." With that she elegantly turns on her heel and weaves her arm through mine.

I should be more careful, I've just admitted she is my student. In _high school._ But I can't care.

Instead, I smile down at her. Her neck is long and her eyes are more brown than green this evening, but just as bottomless as ever.

I love her.

"Happy birthday, Rey."

"Kylo, it's the best thing I've ever received. Thank you. But- do you mind if we go soon? That was overwhelming."

"Of course, Rey. Shall we skip refreshments?"

She bites her lip. "Well, I don't want the night to end, but I do want to get out of here."

That throws me off. I didn't have anything for after planned but I should've realized before how the crowd would make her feel. She did wonderfully, but it must've been unpleasant all the same.

I didn't know she would want to spend additional time with me.

"How about we visit my personal studio? It's close by and it's been neglected for some time."

Her eyes brighten at that, and I take that as another victory. "Perfect."

The coat check takes longer than I'd like but I manage to remain patient and when the time comes, gracefully drape my coat over Rey's shoulders before heading to the valet.

They are quicker than the coat check, and that's a relief. I drive away in the direction of my studio several blocks away.

I fiddle with the locks that I chose for their peculiarities that only I know. Once inside, I flick on the lights and step aside to let the true light in. She takes a few a slow steps inside before smiling up at me. I can't help the grin I return, one she so genuinely pulls from my psyche.

Rey takes in the room slowly. She maneuvers the room carefully, running her finger over the surfaces she passes. It's nearly tantalizing to watch her touch my things at such a torturous pace. The only sound is our breaths and my own heartbeat ringing in my ears.

She reaches the portrait I did of her. Much like her painting in the gallery, I've reserved this portrait for the best spot on display, the back wall in the center.

She stops there and takes it in for some long moments.

That's when she turns to me and my world tilts. She's biting her lip and giving me this _look._ The moonlight hits her just right, framing her face like an angel, but this look conveys something else. Something devilish. I'm enraptured.

Rey pulls one of the straps down from her shoulder. Then the other, revealing bare breasts, her eyes trained on mine all the while. She's breathtakingly confident. Slow, and sensuous. Maddening.

"I want you to draw me again, Kylo. Like you did before. Like you love."

"I…" I'm at a loss for words. I can't help the tenting of my pants, and the guilt I feel when Rey drags her gaze down and hums in approval. And the pleasure too.

"I know how you feel, Kylo. I've known since the beginning and you all but screamed it when you drew that portrait of me." My heart sinks a little. So she did notice the attention I gave her, just how much it was gratifying to be that close to her, to draw her, those eyes. "And now, I want you to do it again."

"Rey-"

"I said now, Kylo. Don't make me say it again."

I gulp. It's so fucking unlike Rey that I have to listen and watch. The girl can be confident, but this is altogether different. She slips off the rest of her jumper and steps out of it. Then she struts over to my desk and grabs a pencil and a sketchbook, which she throws at my feet.

"Kneel," she orders. "I want the perspective to be from the ground."

She has placed some sort of hex on me and I am bound to her word because I do as she says.

I get on my knees and scramble to turn to a blank page, pencil at the ready. She struts over in her heels over to my desk and shoves everything off in one swoop. My possessions, that once seemed so important, clatter to the floor unceremoniously, and I could care less, but that would take too much focus from the perfect display in front of me.

Rey sprawls out on my desk, creating gorgeous perspective and compelling white space for me to study. Her muscles contort and splay wondrous shadows across her chest, stomach and thighs.

"Draw now," she barks, and just like that I am.

"Yes," is all I can manage to say.

It's like an answer to all my prayers, complete white bliss to draw Rey, like a never ending orgasm.

It elicits in me an arousal I've never known before, and each sweet line drawn does me in even more.

I'm floating I believe, scribbling furiously as to not drown. There is a binary sunset that I focus on above me, two golden irises I draw my strength from, and use them as a beacon to stay at the surface.

But I must fail because I see the surface above me now, a current muddling the sunset.

The suns descend on me, then it goes black.

I feel Rey's small hand wiping away the tears streaming down my face. I open my eyes to see she's standing before me, radiant.

"What am I going to do with you?" Her voice is barely above a whisper and it send shivers down my spine. "Kylo, you will stop crying." It's a command, not a request.

I gulp and blink a few times. She grins and nods in approval. "We have to go." She gets up and moves to put her clothes back on but pauses and turns around. She presses her heel against my chest and pushes until I'm flat on my back. I put up no resistance and she adds more and more weight until I can't breathe. I don't care. Breathing stopped being a necessity the moment she came into my life.

"You drew yourself, not me. Don't disappoint me again." She presses her heel down, but I take it, almost desire it. Then she turns, twisting the heel in, and goes to her clothes. "Get up."

I do, and immediately see what she is talking about. The portrait is chaotic as if a million men had drawn it, instead of one. Scratches and jagged lines make up her figure but it's muddled, and what's more is that my tears have added a new layer of distortion. The portrait is of her but the style, the feeling, the overlay is a reflection of my inner-self.

It etches itself into my brain, my psyche, an unforgettable sight in the mirror. Rey, dressed now, snatches the drawing up. "Let's go."

The car ride to her home is something out of a dream. I've forgotten what's reality and what's not, the line between the two just as muddled as my portrait of Rey.

Her home is as I expected- in the bad side of town, and beaten down. Admittedly, it's huge but it looks unoccupied and unloved from the outside.

I come to a stop in front of the driveway where that infamous van resides. I keep the car running even though I don't want this night to end. I also don't want to turn over the engine and wake anyone inside.

I wait for Rey to make the first move. I always will.

She turns to me and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. Her kiss is soft and intoxicating, and gone all too soon. "Goodnight, Kylo. Dream of me."

I love you. Why can't I get the words out?

"I know, I feel it too," she whispers, then gets out abruptly and makes her way around the side of the house. I watch her figure disappear behind a gate.

It's the last time for a while; Rey stops coming to school after that.

Notes: Rey's painting is "The Broken Bridge and the Dream" by Salvador Dali. Feel free to check it out if you want a feel for Rey's style.


	7. Chapter 7

The call comes in the middle of the night. The moon and my phone are the only sources of light in my dank, dark room. The sound startles me but doesn't wake me. Of course not. It's not like I can sleep anyway, not like I've rested even for a second while she's been gone.

I answer immediately, so hastily that it takes two tries to slide my finger across the screen.

"Kylo!" I pick up on the relief, but it doesn't compare at all to the relief I feel.

"Rey," I breathe out. It's the first honest breath I've taken in what feels like an infinite lifetime. Just like that, the cavernous hole inside of me has been filled and repaved, replaced will an iron protectiveness.

"Kylo, I need you to come get me." Her voice is thick and crackly, and I wonder if it's the connection. "Now." Panic floods through me at her tone, an icy burn prickles at the back of my neck.

I'm on my feet right away, navigating through my tiny apartment with haste. I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder, and grab my leather jacket, sliding my long arms through the sleeves in a hurry. "Of course, where are you?"

"The gas station a few blocks from my house. The Chevron. But, Ren, hurry!" The use of my surname, so close to my true first name, sends uninvited shivers down my spine. Rey's about the only person that could use that name and not make me cringe.

One command from Rey, and I resurface to find my place in the world. The girl's hold on me is greater than I could ever imagine, and I could not feel more relieved that she is here to use me again. However she needs me, I will be that.

" _You have one minute left on this call._ " Relief does not last long. Fucking hell.

"Yes, Rey, I'm already in the car," I rush out. "Just stay there, I'll be there in no time. I promise." My engine sputters before roaring to life and I back out of my driveway with the determination of a stunt driver. For the first time I wish I had chosen a fast car with good handling, not this used piece of shit. But I never want to resemble my father in the slightest who favors his car so much he spends time with 'her' each day. "Hold on, Rey."

"Kylo, I-" and the line goes dead. I slam my foot on the gas pedal, seeing red but not caring. Nothing will stop me from getting to her. No chance in hell, even if it's where I am headed.

Thankfully it's late and there is minimal traffic to weave through. It comes as a surprise to me, but I am suddenly thankful for my father's insistence on going to the racetracks with him. His love for speed and cars is paying off for once.

The city lights fly by, their orange glow flashing with each lamp. I'm at the Chevron in record time, thanking whatever higher being that there was a payphone at the gas station.

This antiquated town. Of fucking course.

She's there, curled into a ball, hugging herself and shivering. The phone is hanging off the cord, swinging in the chilly breeze.

She's there.

First, it's sweet relief at just the sight of her. Goddamn is it good to see her.

Next, it's unrelenting fury.

She's bleeding from a busted lip and there's no other way to put it but she's dressed like a cheap whore, all made up and barely covered in skimpy clothing.

The makeup smattered on her face is unbecoming of her gorgeous, youthful features. It's dark, too red, and running. In fact, her face is smudged with… ash? One fake eyelash has clearly fallen off long ago, and what the fuck. The purple above her left eye is no eyeshadow, as it's clearly beginning to yellow. An older injury apparently.

The red I was seeing turns to dripping crimson, and I grit my teeth clutching the steering wheel as hard as possible to focus. She needs me now, not one of my classic raging sessions where I break everything in sight.

She's wearing fishnets under what could only be called booty shorts, bedazzled with metal rings and rhinestones, and a tight white corset, decorated with bows. How she can even breathe is beyond me because her waist is squeezed so thin, it's only slightly wider than her face.

She runs to the passenger car door, flings it open and hops in with a wild expression on her face. My nose scrunches involuntarily at the scent of smoke and burnt rubber.

"Drive." Like before, her voice is a hex on my being and I am immediately swinging out of the parking lot and onto the road. Her usually soothing voice comes out like magma that's drying- crackling, rough, and thick.

I love this girl with all my being, I am sure of it now, as I am sure that my being was reduced to nothingness as soon as she was no longer in my life. But she has a knack for hiding things from me and that is no longer acceptable.

I look over at her. She's pressing her fingers against the heating vents, taking as much of the engine's heat as she can for herself. My poor girl is frozen and beat.

Someone is going to pay dearly.

"Rey, what happened?" My voice comes out rougher than I want. I don't mean to startle her but I do. Of fucking course, Kylo, she's just been through one hell of an ordeal. Keep it together.

She sighs loudly and runs her hand through her hair. "Just drive for now."

"Rey-"

"Take me home. Please, Kylo." She faces me and her expression alone does me in. She's pouting and her eyes are deep, searching mine.

"Of course. Let's get you home and safe."

"Do you have something I can eat?"

I sigh and shake my head. Patience, Kylo, patience. I'll give her a while to recover, then press for answers. I must.

"I think I could go for fries and a shake." She hacks up something from deep within, groaning loudly after. "Something to drink," she croaks.

I hesitate for a moment but decide to reach for the glove compartment where I have as of late made the home of my grandfather's flask. Drinking and driving has been a must to get through the days without my Rey.

She snatches the flask and pops the cap open with familiarity. The swig she takes leaves her sputtering more. "Sorry, Rey, it's all I have."

I watch her close her eyes and tilt her chin up. "No, it's good. I need the burn. Besides, I could really use a drink," she says all too wryly, as if it is meant to comfort me at all. It doesn't.

I take her through the drive through of Steak and Shake, ordering her a full meal with a burger too so she at least gets some protein. My appetite seemed to return as soon as Rey returned because my stomach growls and mouth waters at the smell of Rey's meal, but I need to focus on driving instead of my stomach.

The ride to my house is quick. She spends the whole car ride scarfing down the meal like it's her first in a while. I'm sure it is. I understand completely.

At home, Rey wanders around my living room with wonder, taking in all the artwork messily attached to the wall, as well as the piles upon piles of sketches and canvas.

I've given her enough time and now it's the hour for answers. "Rey. What happened?"

We are in my room and she's staring at a picture of my old dog, Chewie. It's the only family picture I keep in my home. The rest is simply artwork, my own and those of others.

She heaves another heavy sigh before setting the frame down and facing me finally. "Plutt." She turns around and heads into the master bathroom, the reason I chose this place to live. The only requirements were ample wall space and a large clawfoot bathtub.

"You draw me a bath, I'll talk," she orders with that cutting voice that I will always obey. Sounds fair enough to me, so I do as she bids.

"I don't even know where to start." She sounds upset and my resolve to make her talk waivers briefly, but I won't allow myself to relent.

"Start with Plutt." She gives me a look and I find myself asking again. "Please, tell me about Plutt. Is he your father?" I know for sure he is not as I've looked at her records, but I get the sense that Rey would be pissed if she knew I did that. The thought almost makes me laugh. We are way past that, at this point.

"God, no. No. I don't know my parents. Probably dead. As long as I can remember, I have been under Plutt's care." She does air quotes for the last part. "He's a pimp. Basically. But his clientele… their preferences...they prefer girls younger than me. Commanding them. To sit on things or… inflict pain. That… that was me." She peers at me shyly, and I simply nod, not sure how else to response. Because what?

She continues. "I was made to serve as a dominatrix but when I got too old, people didn't want me anymore. But I was good. Really good." I swallow hard, things finally falling into place. "And so I cut a deal with Plutt. I promised to take over Maz's job when she was retired, and in the meantime I could go to school finally. Finally, finally, focus on me instead of work. My artwork took off. And no one could ever touch me again." Her eyes are gleaming and seeing something far off. "But, then Maz died the night of my birthday."

"Maz?" It couldn't be...

"Yeah, Maz. She taught me everything I know. She watched out for me, protected me from Plutt, from clients that got out of hand. Opium nut, but a good woman. She OD'ed, supposedly, and just like that all the responsibilities fell on me. But Plutt didn't keep his end of the bargain. He made me take care of the girls, train them, but he didn't treat me like Maz. Didn't treat me how she would've wanted. One girl disappoints a client and the punishment fell on me." Her voice is growing thicker and thicker, climbing pitch. She allows herself one tear before running the back of her hand over her eyes and breathing deeply. My gaze follows the tear that trails down her face and meets the dried blood on her swollen peach lips.

"You had every right to run, Rey."

Anger flashes through her eyes, something dangerous that I've never seen on Rey's face before. "I did not run," she spits. "I was smoked out. I don't know who, that jackass Plutt or one of his lackeys, maybe even one of the clients set one of the chambers on fire-"

"-What?"

"It was my chance to get out."

Something in her tone tells me to back off that subject quickly. I remain silent, and with that, Rey starts slipping off her shorts and quite literally tears her fishnets off. She turns around and pulls her hair to the side. "Untie this thing." I do so, relishing the moment, finding any excuse to lightly brush my fingers over her upper back. The satisfaction is quickly replaced with horror.

Down her spine are hundreds of cigarette burns, uniformly arranged in three straight lines of dots. Each burn left a mound of pink flesh, endless hills down her essence.

I calmly trace soothing figure eights around the burn marks, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within.

"I hope he burned," I mutter into her ear, softly, and take much pleasure in the shiver it elicits. Her breath hitches and she stills. There's a devilish twinkle in Rey's eyes. I live for it, the fire that threatens to burn down the forest that is her gaze.

In a flash, Rey rounds on me and just like that she is in my arms, her long legs wrapped around my waist, face buried into my neck. I feel her bite down. Hard. I grit my teeth, willing to take the pain if she is willing to deal it.

"I love you, Rey." She whimpers a response and it's weakest she ever sounded. The vibrations go straight to my groin. "It's okay Rey, baby, I will always be here."

This is right where she belongs and I feel that truth instantly.

She still smells of smoke but finally being this close, feeling her warmth, I find Rey has an earthy scent, like cut grass and daisies. Her skin is softer than it looks, an impossibility, or so I thought.

Her head snaps back and once again I am just leveled by her eyes alone. They're mesmerizing, constantly teetering the line between green and brown, driving me mad.

"Hold me" she utters calmly as if this wasn't the best fucking moment of my life. Her head falls back onto my shoulder and I gently carry her back to my bedroom. In an effort to get us both under the covers and comfortable, I shift her weight onto my right hip and pull up the sheets and comforter.

I lower Rey into the bed. A small moan escapes her lips when I let her go, but I quickly shuffle in after her, capturing her in my comforting arms. Exhaustion paints each of Rey's features and I know my poor girl needs rest.

She crawls on top of me, laying on her stomach and once again shoving her face into the crook of my neck. Rey melts into me, and I realize just how small she is compared to her grand spirit. The happy sigh she lets out pulls one of the few genuine smiles of my recent years. Of my life.

The importance of the life resting in my arms is beyond anything imaginable. I cannot return to living my life without her. It wouldn't be living.

Above all, I must protect this girl.

"We are linked now," I whisper but I know my girl is sleeping soundly.

I need more answers, and I fall asleep planning exactly how I can get them.


End file.
